Disposable Heroes
by vtheepic
Summary: One-shot. Arthur and Lady Ayla have a discussion about him and his knights.


4-9-10

She sat across from him, staring at his face as he concentrated on the maps before him. They were currently sitting at the Round Table. Well, she was. He was standing, to restless to sit in one spot for too long. As he studied the maps, planning the paths they would take, she studied his face. He was handsome, she would admit, but he had a sadness in his eyes. A haunting look that told someone that he had seen things no one should. As she continued watching him with a calculating look, he looked up, sensing her staring.

"What is it, my lady?" She cocked her head to the side, a little smile present on her lips, as if she knew something he did not and relished the fact. He continued to look at her with his questioning gaze, until she looked back down at the table, her fingers drawing insisible designs on the wood.

"I've figured out what you and your men are, Sir Arthur." His face turned from confused to curious by her words.

"And what is that, my lady?" She continued lazily stroking her fingers over the wood as she looked up at him.

"Your disposable heroes." His brow furrowed and he looked slightly irratated. His gaze held hers, and he silently questioned her logic.

"Rome uses you as pawns in a game. A deadly game at that." She moved her gaze back down to the table. "You are nothing to them. They do not care if you die or not. They don't care that they've taken you and your men from their homes and forced them to fight a battle that is not their own. You are disposable to them." She held his gaze, a fire burning in her eyes as she watched him think about what she had said.

"But, you are also heroes, my dear Arthur." Her face softened and she stood, making her way around the table to him. She cupped her hands around his face. "To everyone that you have saved and protected, you are a hero to. To your men, who look to you for answers, who would follow you to the ends of the Earth, who will and have died for you...to them you are their hero. To me, you are a man who will fight for a cause that he believes in until his last breath. You are my hero, as well." She smiled and lightly kissed his forehead.

"You sound so sure of yourself, Lady. How do you know this to be true?" He looked into her eyes, searching for an answer.

"Because I have said it to be true." She said it with confidence and an air of finality. He chuckled as she grinned at him.

"So you say it, so shall it be, my lady." He shook his head as he continued to chuckle, going back to his maps.

"And so shall it always be, Sir Arthur." She smiled once more before taking her seat again, continuing to watch him as he mulled over his thoughts.

Meanwhile, ouside the double doors there stood Gawain, Lancelot, Dagonet, and Tristan, listening in on the conversation that had just gone on between Lady Ayla and their commander Arthur. Gawain turned to the rest of the men. "Is that truly what we are? Disposable heroes?"

Lancelot faced Gawain, a light smirk on his face. "Well, Lady Ayla certainly believes thats what we are. And you know her. Once she's made up her mind, there's no changing it."

The others chuckled, remembering other times where Lady Ayla had made decisions and refused to change her mind about them, even if she was wrong.

"She's so stubborn." Dagonet said, scratching his head as he remembered the many times Lady Ayla would never back down, no matter how many times she was proven wrong.

"It's going to get her in trouble one day." Tristan stated. He wasn't particularly close with her, but always welcomed her presence. She was one of the few women that he could actually stand. The only other woman being Vanora, Bors' lover. She would always have an apple for him and some type of meat for his hawk. He didn't mind her being around.

"Come! Let us go and drink. We've had a long day and I don't feel like standing around and eaves-dropping any longer." Said Lancelot.

The men dispersed, heading out to the tavern where Vanora would most likely be, waiting on them to arrive. Their table would most likely have Galahad, nursing a mug of ale, and Bors would most likely be tipsy, if not drunk already.

Back inside at the Round Table, Lady Ayla was bidding Arthur goodnight.

"Goodnight dear Arthur. Don't stress yourself out to much, alright?" She smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple.

"Goodnight Lady." He replied, still leaning over his maps, only sparing a glance at her as she left.

As the doors closed he let out a sigh and moved towards the window, looking out. He could see the tavern and the other knights gathered there. He could see Gawain and Galahad throwing knives, only to have Tristan best them both, much to their annoyance. He saw Lancelot gambling with Romans, and a barmaid watching in his lap. Then, there was Bors and Dagonet conversing with each other as Bors' bastards ran around them and Vanora was in his lap, enjoying his company.

Arthur sighed once more and looked at his men. Was Lady Ayla right? Were they really just disposable heroes?

He stared out at his knights for a few more moments before a slight smile came to his face. "Disposable heroes, huh? Thats something I never would have thought my men and I to be called." He chuckled a little, remembering the way Lady Ayla had said it with such confidence and conviction. He shook his head again. "Maybe we are disposable heroes."


End file.
